Here's an x-ray view of my not-so-funny humerus fracture from another angle, where more damage is evident. My dive on the Appalachian Trail last week, according to the orthopedist, results in a Neer three-part break in the surgical neck and greater tuberosity—fortunately with minimal displacement. My left arm has to rest and heal for a few weeks, but no surgery is needed. Further details when I go back to the clinic on Halloween. Boo!

Three days after the fall blood from the broken bone has leaked further down my arm and starts to form Rorschach patterns under the skin. One friend tells me he thinks it's a map of Laos. I see Elvis's face. Bizarre lines develop where sling and bandages interfere with blood diffusion. What messages are the aliens sending us?

Five days and the colors on my arm are ripening like the leaves of an other-worldly autumn, an alien "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness", with burgundy-violets and jaundice-yellows instead of red and orange hues. Blood cells break down and hemoglobin turns into bilirubin under the skin.

What can happen next? I break a tooth, an upper molar! The sinister side of my body is a Painting of Dorian Gray, decaying while the right half remains healthy. All of my woes are on the left: the torn toe tendon, the basal cell carcinoma, the broken arm, and now the tooth. Ouch!

The next day while in the dentist's chair getting his verdict—the tooth can't be filled, I need a crown—I show Dr. Ho my arm and ask him to x-ray it. "I can do that," he says, "but we'll have to tape together a few hundred of these tiny dental film chips!"

Nine days after my tumble the leaking blood has reached my hand. Wife Paulette kindly gives me a ride to the office where I fill out paperwork and turn in an overdue library book. I apologize for bringing it back late and explain that I've got a fractured arm. "Good!" replies the librarian, "that means I don't have to break it!"